“Strange, just got a strong sense of déjà vu”
“It happens, let’s get you kitted up and then you can do your lap and we can go home alright?”
“Sure thing, coach”
Jerome was practically salivating at the thought of going back on the track and having his running spikes embedded in the soft earth. It was a sensory overload being on the running block again, even though it had only been two days since he was last there, Jerome was in his element. He wanted to take his time and savour each step around the track, but before he and anyone else for that matter knew it, he was back at the start again. The walkers were conspicuously laid on the floor with their caps several meters away and hair all kinds of blustered.
“Have you taken your lap yet?” The coach was too caught up in deciding what to get from the vending machine to notice Jerome’s lap. After a thorough examination of the machine’s contents, he had narrowed it down to the swirly-twirly chocolate bar and the creature crunch crisps (or chips as they are known across the pond for some nonsensical reason when you consider that the food in question is by all definitions crisp). He was debating if he wanted a sweet or savoury snack and had decided to give up on the two and go for a drink instead.
Seizing his moment, Jerome lied to his coach “Haven’t started yet, coach”
“Tell you what, I’ll time you”
There was one person that noticed Jerome’s lap, he stood in keen anticipation for Jerome to run again.
“On your marks. Get set. GO!” Coach emulated the sound of a starting pistol but in so doing made the sound of a wet fart, how he could mistake the two is baffling to be sure, but then again, Coach never did learn to manipulate his tongue to form perfect examples of onomatopoeia.
Jerome started off slow, this time he really did want to savour the moment even if it meant recording a slower than usual time. When he reached the first turn though he began to speed up, the need for speed was insatiable and it took all Jerome had to physically slow himself down. When he raced passed the finished line, the coach’s face was one of shock and awe.
“How’d I do?”
“I know I said one lap but with a time like that you were less than two seconds from your personal best. Jerome, it would be remiss of me to forbid you from taking one more lap. You have a good chance of beating your PB”
Inside Jerome’s mind was a trinity of emotions, the first and most prominent of which was elation at having almost pipped his personal best without really trying and the thrill of another lap, the second was the sneaky feeling of having actually done two laps and was now on for a third even though he had settled for one, and the third was lurking in the back of his mind and took the form of huh? because Jerome didn’t know that his coach knew the correct way to use the word remiss.
“Don’t hold out on me, Jerome. Give it your all”
Jerome placed his hands just behind the start line. His feet on the running block.
“On your marks” Jerome looked up from the line, straight ahead.
“Get set” Jerome raised his buttocks in the air.
“Go” Jerome leapt off the block and ran, crossed the line and smashed his personal best.
The stranger observed.
“You did it! Not only beat your PB but smashed it” Coach was hopping from one foot to the other like a giddy little gnome doing a jig. Jerome simply panted slightly and then stole towards the vending machine.
“Coach, hand me my wallet” The coach obliged.
There was no dawdling in Jerome’s use of the vending machine. He wasn’t torn between sweet or savoury, he simply got both and two helpings of each at that. Coach stared in surprise with a hint of jealousy as Jerome chomped on a chocolate bar and then took a bite of a crisp and then returned to the chocolate bar. Some people would say that having that combination of flavours in one’s mouth at the same time is sacrilege, Coach was not one of those people as he looked on in envy.
“Are you alright, Jerome?” He asked.
“Fine, just hungry is all. Really hungry” he said in between chews of the chocolatey, potatoey concoction.
At this moment, the stranger approached the two.
“I saw your lap. It was alright”
“Alright!? It was a masterclass from a true athlete” Coach was in awe of Jerome, in part due to him being a running champion and in another part due to the new discovery of him being an eating champion too.
“You want to see a masterclass? Race me and I’ll show you. Two laps” If the stranger has been wearing a glove he would’ve taken it off to slap Jerome around the face with it. As it happens, the stranger did not have a glove and so had to verbally state his challenge instead. He did make a mental note though to start wearing gloves.
“Oooo go on Jerome, you can take him” Coach had completely forgotten his one lap rule, despite adding a full stop, perhaps an exclamation mark would’ve seen better results.
“You’re on, mister” Jerome locked eyes with the stranger.
Coach let out a little squeal to the tune of “eeee” and held his hands to his mouth barely containing his excitement.
By this point a crowd had gathered around the track, comprising of two amateur athletes and a cat who had wandered through the fence from the neighbouring suburbs. Not much of a crowd come to think of it. Nonetheless, the challenge was on.
“On your marks” Jerome and the stranger looked up.
“Get set” Jerome and the stranger raised their buttocks, making one of the amateur athletes blush.
“Go”
Jerome started slow and built up speed as he progressed whereas the stranger had set off at full acceleration and broken both of his ankles in an instant. Jerome hadn’t noticed this, his attention was fixed on winning the race that he didn’t know he had already won. He built up speed incrementally and then pushed at the final straight causing his shoes to melt in the process. By the time he crossed the finish line he first noticed that his shoes had disintegrated from the friction and then noticed that it looked as though the stranger’s ankles had similarly disintegrated.
“What happened here?” Jerome looked at the screaming wreck sprawled on the floor that was his competitor.
“Someone’s too big for his boots I think” Coach said, oblivious to the obvious pain the stranger was in”
“Well don’t just stand there, call an ambulance!”
The stranger didn’t say anything as he was stretchered into the back of the ambulance. He never walked again after that.
“Jerome, what happened to your kicks!?” Coach pointed to the obviously obliterated kicks that were Jerome’s shoes.
“Same thing happened yesterday, Coach. Guess I’m just too fast huh” He smiled “I know you got a spare pair in your car”
“You’re damn right I do, wouldn’t be much of a coach if I didn’t now would I?” Coach pulled a fresh pair of kicks from the back of his car, which Jerome put on. A vibrant neon green pair with a prominent swoosh on each shoe, the colour of which had the potential to send people spiralling into a pit of insanity.
“Jerome” Coach looked serious “That last lap you did, I timed it and well, it broke the world record”
“Are you serious?” A surprising question considering the coach was literally described as looking serious a couple of sentences ago.
“Look, there’s a race on tomorrow. An official one, if we can get that same performance out of you then we can make it official that you have the world record”
“We gotta do it coach”
“It’s short notice, but I can pull some string, leave it to me Jerome, you’re getting on that race and you’re getting that world record!” Coach was of the meek variety, however, he was very well connected and respected in the coaching circles. Indeed, if he were to go to any race track anywhere, someone would know his name. However, this was likely because he would constantly wear a t-shirt with the word COACH emblazoned on the back and yet, Coach wasn’t even aware that the word was there
because unfortunately his eyes were on the front of his face thus his back was forever doomed to never been seen by such limpet pools.
“I’m game. Can we get some food first?”
“For my champion, we can get whatever you want”
“Craving a burger”
“Not exactly full of nutrition, but I suppose you can have one” The coach didn’t add a full stop this time, realising how ineffective it was the last time he endeavoured to use it.
The fast food establishment wasn’t busy, nor was it the pinnacle of fine cuisine, but it was exactly what Jerome craved, and what coach had secretly been devouring on a daily basis. They pulled up to the drive through – frustratingly stylised as Drive-Thru and thus contributing to the rapid increase in illiteracy – to place their order. Coach began.
“Can I get a Royale with cheese, hold the pickle, extra mayo and some nuggets. Jerome?”
“Errr, two double cheeseburgers, a box of nuggets, Royale with cheese and a hamburger” Noting Coach’s stern look, Jerome added to his order “and a side salad please”
“Do you want fries with that?” The employee asked, because if he didn’t ask the question then all plant life would wither and die, animals would rise up against their human oppressors and the sun would rise in the west and set in the east followed by the world imploding then exploding and all of the resulting chunks of earth blasting off into oblivion.
“Yeah can I get 3 medium fries please?”
“Proceed to the next window for your order. Have a nice day” The employees monotonous tone suggested that he couldn’t care less if the two had a nice day or not. He had already saved the world umpteen times that day.
Lo and behold, the order was ready the moment Coach’s car pulled up to the window. Nobody batted an eyelid at the speed of service, they were all happy to receive their food in a prompt manner even if it meant that the food had likely been made long in advance and had been sitting on a heated rack for the better part of three days. Funnily enough, adults never thought about such things and were happy to receive their food in a timely fashion regardless of how such a time had been achieved. Children, however, wised up to the fast food giant’s nefarious schemes and so to counter this, the giant placed little toys in their Giddy Meals to distract them from the harsh truth.
“Don’t get any fries on the floor, Jerome. I’ll be watching you”
“Coach, there’s already fries on the floor” The familiar shade of crimson was reflected on Coach’s face once more. He took a large bite of his burger to remedy this change of hue. Jerome was tearing through his meal as though he hadn’t eaten a thing for several weeks and somehow still survived long enough without sustenance to order a huge helping of fast food. The pair pulled into a parking space and settled down for their meals.
“Jerome, I ‘aint never seen you eat like that before. What’s gotten into you?”
“Dunno. Just hungry” Was his response between mouthfuls.
“Damn, I gotta make a call about tomorrow” Coach stepped out of his car, having finished his more modest meal. In the meantime, Jerome was still going at his burgers and fries and washing it down with…damn, he’d forgotten to get a drink. Everyone knows that a soft drink is a necessity when ordering a large order of fast food because consuming that much sugar in the form of food requires an equal measure of sugar to be consumed as a drink to balance out the universe. He placed his meal to one side and reluctantly left it in the car in order to go into the store and get a carbonated drink of sorts.
Coach was just getting off the phone when he saw Jerome approaching. He had a huge grin on his face.
“You’re in Jerome, I pulled some strings and now you’re in. Time to show the world what you got!”
“That’s excellent, Coach thank you! What are the specifics?”
“The qualifiers are at noon, they’ll take a timed lap and then recess until the main event at six in the evening”
“Great, that gives me just enough time to see Hallie and then maybe I could take her to the race to watch her daddy break records”
“You’ll be breaking records for sure, where are you going?”
“Thirsty”
“Get me an orange soda”
There were more than a couple of fries missing when Jerome re-entered the car and handed the orange soda to Coach. Considering Jerome had plenty of fries and burgers to match, it was of no concern so he resumed tackling his temple of tastes and washing it down in a river of cola. He let out a hearty burp when he finally conquered the summit.
“I best be getting you home, Jerome. Big day tomorrow!” Why Coach decided to shout the last word was a little bizarre, perhaps the orange soda had gotten to his head.
Tomorrow was certainly a big day, however, tomorrow had become today and that day was now the tomorrow that Coach was referring to. Jerome had a big race to prepare for and so he did what he always did to prepare for a big race – listening to pounding drum and bass while shadow boxing naked in the mirror. On this day, which was the tomorrow that Coach was referring to that had now seemingly become today due to the Earth’s rotation on its axis, Jerome noted that his punches were a lot more rapid than usual, he couldn’t sense the speed of his ducks and dodges either as they were shrouded in motion blur. Regardless, he took it as a good sign that boded well for the race. Coach turned up right on time as always to take him to the track. Jerome was out of the door in a flash and then back in his room in a flash and then back out of the door in another flash as a result of forgetting to put clothes on.
Race day was always a busy day at the arena, there were even clusters of people in the stands eagerly watching the runners jog around the track to warm up, not that the arena was anywhere near it’s full capacity because after all, the main event wouldn’t start for hours and it was a Monday. It was a wonder how there were people watching at all given the fact that they should be at work, sad to think that some people likely pulled a sick day in order to be hours early at an insignificant running event that was only televised on local stations and a random sports vlog online. At least they could call their mothers and say they were in a behind the scenes video on a lowly online vlog called Running Without Scissors (the alternative is so much more fun).
Jerome leapt out of the car as soon as it arrived, quite literally, he had opened the car door and exited the vehicle the second Coach applied the brakes. There was some time to spare until the race and so Jerome resumed his shadowboxing beside the track, this time fully clothed, much to the disappointment of the guy filming the sports vlog who was shooting some b-roll.
“And here we have a last minute entrant, Jerome!” His camera was all kinds of up in Jerome’s face. “Heard you had an accident, is everything alright? You pumped for the race? Should you be running so soon after your injury? What do you think of the competition? What do you think about your chances? What do you think of my new jeans?”
“…” was Jerome’s response.
“I know right, they’re pretty tight but I think they really show off my muscular physique don’t ya think? Will you add another medal to your collection today? Do you have anyone special coming to watch? What is your technique for preparing for a race? What’s your opinion on the current political state in Antarctica? Do you think the penguins will rebel?”
“Ok ok, beat it, kid” Coach mercifully intervened and sent the vlogger away to pester someone else. “Jerome, this is only the qualifying race, to set a time and to warm up the competitors. By all means kick their asses, just keep some in the tank for the big show”
“Yes, Coach. Get the burgers on standby, have a feeling I’m gonna need a tonne of them afterwards”
“I may look strong, but I don’t think I can lift a tonne” Coach did look strong and so conflicts were easily resolved when Coach was around.
Jerome looked around the track to size up his opponents, they were a lean bunch, all stretching every manner of appendages in preparation for the chance to shine on the big stage
. Their outfits were in an array of colours and all a little too tight fitting, the kind of tight that would make your grandma blush and possibly even swoon, depending on the type of grandma in question. Jerome’s attire was a more modest ensemble, tight for sure, but not so tight that it would cut off blood circulation to certain areas. He had whipped out his special pair of limited edition running shoes that cost more than a small car for the event. He was ready.
Super 0 Page 5
